Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

Marlowe needed to see Asher, needed to know he was alive and breathing. That he was okay and hadn't forgotten her. The reunions taking place in Kelsey's playroom were emotional, overwhelming, and exclusive. Harley, Walker, and Maverick came first. After Kelsey let them in, they'd quickly grabbed their wives and held them, just held them like they'd never let them go. There were tears and quiet ‘I love yous.' The women and guys all hugged Kelsey on their way out.

That left Libby, Kelsey, and Marlowe, the odd duck. The one no one was coming for. Old habits died hard. A dizzy spell hit and she was back in Chicago, reliving a life of rejection, of being the only kid in class without parents who cared enough to buy her decent clothes and shoes. Pitied and teased. Made to feel different and less than. Until the day she walked out and didn't return.

Alex hadn't come home yet. His kids were both still sound asleep. Would he wake them when he got there? Of course, Lexie and Bradley would hug him and call him Daddy. Kelsey would cry. It was more than Marlowe could take.

Blinking to keep her tears to herself, she looked up at the ceiling, needing to leave before he arrived. She'd already studied the way out but knew Kelsey and Libby would stop her.

Mark hadn't come for Libby yet, either, but he most certainly would. Any minute now, and maybe then, she'd tell him about the new Houston baby in her belly. He'd be happy because he actually wanted six kids. Six. Maybe more, Marlowe couldn't recall how many Libby had said. Bet he'd carry her away like a handsome prince, and they'd run back to their home and live happily ever af—

Marlowe was digging herself into a pit of depression, and she knew it. That crap had to stop. She forced her mind back to all the women and children she'd gotten safely out of Afghanistan. She was the only one she'd failed. Her getting caught was her mistake, but she'd always known it was bound to happen. She'd rolled the dice and lucked out so many times, but success and failure relied on chance and circumstance. The only good side to that nearly fatal day was that no one else was caught with her. All the women she'd rescued had gotten out of Afghanistan. Their children would grow up free. Marlowe had Alex to thank for that, and Arzad to thank for connecting her with him.

She'd do it again. All of it. Even after what had happened in that cave. Libby was right. Marlowe did have feelings for Asher, and he was right, too. She couldn't go back to Afghanistan. The Taliban were wise to her now. They'd make a public example of her in the most humiliating way. She would surely die. Maybe by fire. She'd seen that, once. A man. She had no clue what his crime was. Only knew he'd died slowly and horribly.

Okay, this wasn't working. She'd just dug herself in deeper. Blinking, she shook her head to redirect her stubborn brain and—

Libby sat down beside her. "Mark and Alex are on their way. Mark wants to know if you'd like to visit Asher tonight. He's in the medical wing at TEAM headquarters now. We could stop by on our way home."

"He's not in ICU, is he?"

Libby put a hand on Marlowe's. Marlowe looked down at the friendly gesture. Her knuckles were white. She was clenching Kelsey's tablet like a lifeline. So much for redirecting negativity.

"No, he's next door to the room you were in. Alex is sure the danger is over, but he's got agents on guard there and here, too."

"Why does he do that?"

Libby cocked her head. "Do what?"

"Post guards if he doesn't have to?"

"I guess" —Libby shrugged— "because sometimes it's hard to move on after trauma. It takes time for our brains to accept that we're safe again. Once we all settle down, I'm sure he'll reduce what he calls overwatch." She squeezed Marlowe's hand. "You're okay, girlfriend. And tomorrow—"

"Tonight. I want to see Asher tonight."

"Of course, you do. I was just going to say that tomorrow we should all get together for lunch. The pressure's off and we'll feel more like ourselves, you'll see. But if that's what you want to do tonight, then that's what we'll do. We'll take you to Asher."

Marlowe sucked in a full breath. "Yes. Please. That's what I want."

"Okay then, as soon as—"

The playroom door opened.

Damn.

Alex was home. Without acknowledging Marlowe or Libby, he went straight to Kelsey and pulled her into his arms. She melted against him with a soft cry. Her arms circled his neck and she pressed her face into his chest. She was openly crying and he was comforting her. His arms slid around her waist. His eyes closed and he dipped his nose to the top of her head.

Marlowe couldn't make herself stop watching. The tortured expression on this big, tough man's tanned face proved how much he adored his wife. They didn't speak, just held each other, standing there as if they were the only ones in the world. It was the tenderest, most beautiful sight she'd ever witnessed.

So that's what true love looks like .

Her gut ached at the painful contrast between her life and theirs. She hadn't witnessed a full-body hug before, not ever. The single constant in her childhood was the complete and utter lack of affection. Her parents had never hugged each other, much less her. Hugs were foreign, and when they had happened, impersonal, something your teacher did because she had to. Leaving Marlowe to believe that she was the problem; that something was wrong with her. That she wasn't worth loving.

In the end, it was easier to believe love only happened in fairy tales and reality shows. It was fiction. In her house, booze, cigarettes, alcohol, and drugs ruled. They were real. The only time her parents touched each other was to fight. After their last screaming, slapping match, her dad had walked out, and her mom had yelled, "Good riddance."

Marlowe had just stood there, torn between two people who'd never loved or hugged her, yearning to be wanted by at least one of them. By someone. Anyone.

But here, in this house, love was everywhere. The Stewarts were rich in ways that mattered, in ways Marlowe had never known. Even Lexie treated her baby brother like he was her best friend.

A sense of rightness settled over Marlowe. She wanted what Kelsey had, what Marlowe had foolishly thrown away in Harley's barn. That hug. Asher's hug. She'd made him feel stupid like her mother always did with her dad. He'd usually been strung out on something, sure, but maybe he'd just wanted a hug—

Err, no. If her dad ever wanted anything, it wasn't a hug.

Seconds later, Mark arrived and the scene replayed. Only this time, Libby flew across the room, jumped into his arms, and wrapped her legs around his waist. He tugged her into the hall, and the door closed behind them. Marlowe didn't need to see to know Libby was being ravished by tall, dark, and handsome Mark, on the other side of that very secure door. Or maybe she was doing the ravishing.

It was awkward and lonesome, this girlfriend thing. Marlowe was happy for Kelsey and Libby, she truly was. Their men were home. They were treasured women again, and all was good. But no one was coming for her.

Mustering her courage—again—Marlowe refocused on the view of Kelsey's kitchen in the tablet. The lights were off and the cleaners were gone. A huge flower arrangement now sat in the center of the table. White flowers. It'd be nice if they were Easter lilies. Lilies looked like tiny delicate trumpets, made by angels to herald in spring. Baby animals and birds. Butterflies and longer days. Beauty. Sunsets. Stars—

Oh, what a load of rubbish. Marlowe ran a hard hand over her stupid head and prepared to be disappointed again. Once Libby left with Mark, her chance of seeing Asher tonight went with them. She was stuck in limbo. Dependent and useless and—

"You waiting for an invitation?" Alex asked, still standing there, proud and strong, a true warrior, one arm around his woman. He was not the same tough guy she'd met in the barn. Surely not the stern, pissed-off boss he'd been in his office. This Alex was soft around the edges. He looked content. His sharp blue eyes were mellow as they darted to Lexie, then to his baby son, then back to Marlowe. "Well?"

"Excuse me?" she asked.

He jerked his head toward the door. "Mark and Libby are in the hall waiting for you. Can I help with that walker? Need a jacket? It's chilly tonight."

"I'm not leaving my dogs. I can't—"

"We'll take care of Walter and Darling for you, no worries." Alex released Kelsey and helped Marlowe to her feet and into her walker. He was certainly in a rush for her to leave.

While he hurried Marlowe out of the playroom, Libby stood in the hallway, waiting. Flushed and breathing hard, but smiling, like Mark had just made her dreams come true. Of course he had. Loving a man like him was easy for Libby. She was princess material. Blonde and blue-eyed. She was a doctor. She was smart, smart enough to know how to live.

I'll bet she never refused a hug from Mark .

Stop. Just stop. Marlowe ordered her ornery inner-child. You had your chance and you blew it. You're the one who pushed Asher away. Suck it up and move on.

Alex brought her to a dead stop instead of pushing her into the hall, like she half-expected.

Marlowe glared up at him, daring him to tell her good riddance.

"Thanks for staying with Kelsey," he said gruffly. "For keeping her company while I was gone. I wasn't there when I lost my Sara, and I'll never forgive myself for letting her down. But you, Marlowe? You gave my wife your friendship, and you kept her mind occupied while I was gone." Alex lifted her hand from the walker but didn't shake it. Just held onto it and squeezed, like he was pressing his gratitude into her through his fingertips.

"It was my pleasure," Marlowe whispered, instead of yelling, "Don't touch me. "

Not this time and not with this guy. Unbeknownst to Alex, he'd given her a gift when he'd answered her text from Afghanistan, then followed that with a job offer that had become a passion. "Thanks for believing in me, Mr. Stewart. I couldn't have done my job without you in my corner."

"Yeah, well, if I'd known you were a woman—"

She squeezed back. "You would've done the same thing. You trusted me to deliver and I did."

Alex leaned down to her level, his eyes sparking with anger. "And they caught you, and they hurt you, and that's my fault. I didn't ask enough questions. I was in a hurry to get those families out of Afghanistan, and I jumped to conclusions that nearly got you killed. Sweetheart, that's on me. I never send agents out alone, but I did, and I thank God that Asher prevailed where I failed."

The fervor pouring out of this big man was so intimidating, Marlowe wilted. "Don't," she whispered. "Don't diminish what I did just because I'm not a guy."

Unexpectedly, she found herself crushed against his broad chest. "I'm damned proud of you, but no one, man or woman, dies because of me."

"Umm, okay then." She pulled back because… hugs. She didn't do hugs. Did she? Or maybe it was just hugs from certain people. Certain other women's husbands. Hmmm… "I've got to go. Bye, Mr. Stewart. Bye, Kelsey. I'll be back for my dogs."

The hug with Kelsey was as unexpected as the one from Alex, but somehow warmer and gentler. "You tell that man of yours to bring you by anytime."

"He's not my—"

Kelsey cut her off. "Any. Time. You're always welcome here, Marlowe."

Well, okay then. By the time Marlowe made it back to TEAM headquarters, she was emotionally hammered. Especially after riding with Mark and Libby. There was a reason they had all those kids.

They accompanied her into the darkened building, but as they approached the front door, Marlowe turned her walker around and stared across the parking lot to the barns. "Someone's out there. I can feel them watching us."

"You're right," Mark answered. "TEAM overwatch has our backs. They'll be with us until Alex confirms all clear."

"How long will that be?"

"When he's sure all loose ends are tied up. Don't worry. You're safe here. Nobody can get into TEAM HQ."

They chatted while the elevator dropped to the medical level, which was more like a warm, cozy dungeon. No windows, but lots more light than any prison. At Asher's room, Mark held the door and gestured Marlowe and Libby inside. Straightaway, Libby went to Asher and checked the monitors stacked on the pole beside him. There were two IV bags hanging off that same pole, one clear, the other dark red, most likely blood. All Marlowe had eyes for was the man in the bed, Asher, on his back, pale and still. She would've thought he was dead but for the machine tracking his heart rate, oxygen level, and plenty of other stuff, what she didn't know.

"Oh, honey," she breathed, walking slowly to his side. There she stopped. He didn't open his eyes, had no idea she was there. His right shoulder and arm were swathed in bandages. Without thinking, she leaned forward and took hold of his left hand. It was warm, not cold. She needed that small comfort. "I'm staying."

Libby shook her head, but before she shut Marlowe down, Mark intervened. He was a big, bull of a man. Everything about The TEAM agents was bigger and stronger. His brown eyes were fastened on her, but all Marlowe read there was kindness and concern. She readied herself for the upcoming argument. He'd side with Libby. Husbands always sided with their wives.

"Good idea, Marlowe," he said. "I agree. Your face is the first thing Asher wants to see when he comes to. Libby? Remember when you woke up after that close call with the Russian mob?"

"This is different, Mark. Asher is—" She looked at Marlowe. "I'm sorry, but he's still very weak."

"So were you, babe," Mark murmured, "and you were in shock. You thought you were still in that coffin."

Marlowe watched the back-and-forth between this husband and wife. Didn't matter if they agreed or not, she wasn't leaving. To make her point, she dropped the bed's side rail and climbed up beside Asher. It took her a minute. He had no idea she was there, but just being with him settled her nerves. Smoothing a hand over his forehead she whispered, "I'm here. I know you can't hear me, but I'm here and I'm staying."

"Mark, would you please bring a recliner in for Marlowe?" Libby asked.

No sooner said than done. Mark wheeled in an extra-large recliner. Libby covered it with bedding, then left bottled water and snacks on the table beside it. Along with the remote and a phone and other stuff Marlowe didn't need, because she wasn't moving one inch away from Asher.

Before they left, she asked, "Who takes care of your kids when you're both gone? I mean, you're both so busy."

Mark grinned. "TEAM wives cover for each other."

"It's none of my business." Marlowe paused. "But do you all have playrooms like Kelsey and Alex?"

"You bet," Mark answered. "In our line of work, it's a given."

"That's the first thing Alex did for us when we moved farther inland. He insisted. He takes care of his people," Libby added.

"Time to go." Mark handed Marlowe another cell phone. "My number's already programmed. You need anything, hit one. Someone will come running."

She set it on the nightstand. "I will. Thanks."